Authors: Chris Stevenson
She stepped up to him, grabbed the sheet, and threw it over herself. She waved her arms under the sheet, then made a few ghostly warbles. “Whooo—bwahh-ha-haaa,” she said in her most sinister voice. She backed up toward the front door, careful not to trip.
The man let out a howl, summoned God, and called on the devil, all in the same breath. Avy heard the frantic barefoot slaps of somebody coming down the hall. A woman’s voice asked, “For God’s sake, what is it, Harold?”
Avy made one last dramatic flurry under the sheet and said, “Whah ha ha.” She stepped through the door, the sheet collapsing to the floor behind her. A woman’s hysterical scream came from the house while Avy ran across the street to jump into the Jeep. Sebastian hit the gas. Avy broke out in a peal of laughter, almost gagging. It took her three miles to calm down enough to explain to Sebastian what she’d done. It was another two miles before he stopped laughing.
###
Everybody wanted to talk at once, but none of it made any sense. Drake sat in his office chair making frantic throat-cutting gestures to Linda, which meant he wanted her to hold all calls. Three security officers had taken up seats on his conference sofa. One stood in the corner. Three others paced the room, while five more waited out in the hallway, eager to meet with their boss to discuss “matters of extreme importance.” Nine other members of the Hollywood mafia had called in sick.
Linda hollered over the din that they now had a tenth employee begging off work.
Auggie sat in a visitor’s chair, wringing his hands, looking from one face to another. Accusations flew. Denials were thrown about. Two men were visibly frantic while the man standing in the corner looked around with vacant eyes, nervously picking at the hem of his shirt.
Drake reared up from his chair, then slammed his telephone book down hard on his desk. The loud crack stunned the men into silence.
Drake said, “That will be enough! I want one voice at a time. You, Harold. Run that by me again.”
“Honest to God’s truth, Mr. Labrador, I woke up this morning to see a full-body apparition in my living room. I’ve never seen anything like it before. Nor do I ever want to see such a thing again. My wife fainted dead away when she caught sight of the thing. I had to call nine-one-one. Like I was saying, I think I need some time off. Either that or a visit to the company psychiatrist.”
“Sit back down. Art, you’re next. What do you have to say?”
The man stood up from the couch. His eyes were red-rimmed. It looked like he had been crying. “It’s just been a damn mess, that’s all. I guess I’m coming apart at the seams or I’m doing a hell of a lot of sleepwalking. My living room looked like a house of horrors this morning. Coffee cups were hanging from strings attached to the chandelier, looking like some damn voodoo doctor’s wind chimes. I still can’t get that image out of my head. Who in their right mind shoves household slippers over bowling trophies, paints big happy faces on the walls with lipstick, and then stacks drinking glasses on the kitchen table in pyramid fashion? Do you think that was me? Hell, my wife says so! I thought it was that worthless Goth-ass mutha fukah who hangs around with my daughter. I figured he got into my joint to fuck things up on purpose. Problem is, I have more security alarms than a NASA Titan launch—nobody could have entered my house without me knowing about it. I would appreciate some answers or solutions, if I can get any.”
One of the men stopped pacing. “I don’t think it compares with my place this morning. I have some very expensive tropical fish that are now worthless. Somebody sabotaged my tank with dye. Those fish cost me two grand—all I have now is a bunch of blue retards headed for the sushi market. All of my downstairs light bulbs were in my fireplace. A mountain of cottage cheese sat on my kitchen counter with a dozen pencils stuck in it.”
“Maybe it was a practical joke,” suggested Drake.
“Doubtful. I was about to ground my kids, thinking that they were putting one over on the old man, but then I remembered that they were off for the week with their uncle. So I called the cops. They came roaring up, code two. But when they looked the place over they chalked it up to a misdemeanor vandalism. Imagine that!”
“I take it the rest of you had similar incidents?” Drake asked.
They nodded. Somebody whistled. The man standing in the corner stared at the carpet, continuing to pick at his shirt.
Drake looked at his chief of security. “What about you, Auggie? Any goblins in the night?”
Auggie cleared his throat. “Well, I had few things go down that I couldn’t explain. I have no idea how my dog opened the refrigerator and wolfed down about forty bucks worth of meat. There was nothing but empty packaging lying all over the floor. My dog was so bloated he couldn’t stand up. Hell, other than that, I’m all green—good to go.”
Drake called the others who were waiting out in the hall into the office. They relayed the same types of incidents. A few of them were terrified. But there was one man in the room who said he had the answer to the mystery, suggesting it was tied in to the theater incident. He asked for permission to speak his mind.
Drake cleared the room, including Linda, who he ordered to go to lunch at a quarter after eight in the morning. That left him alone with one security officer and Auggie.
“Go ahead, Floyd,” said Drake. “What’s your theory?”
“I think that magic fellow is in on this,” said the security officer. “I feel it in my bones. Nothing else makes sense. We messed his place up real good the other day. I figure he hit us back last night. Now, I’m certain your daughter didn’t have anything to do with this.”
“You don’t have to protect my daughter,” said Drake. “If she was with him, it means she had an equal hand in it. To the point—this is a hell of a lot of breaking ’n entering going on. I can’t figure out how they pulled it off without tripping an alarm, slipping through a window, or picking a lock. What’s the count, twelve or thirteen employees hit?”
“About that, and those are the ones we know about,” said Auggie. “We’ve got nine that called in sick, which means it could be a lot bigger than we thought. Looks like at least twenty or more. All of them were Cyberflow security officers. The cops don’t have any similar break-ins or trespassing incidents on their blotter. This was localized, meant for us. I think what Floyd is saying makes sense. For example, the timing. We hit him—he hit us right back with no lag time.”
Drake scrunched his face. “You’re telling me one guy is responsible for all of this?
“He’s a magician, boss. He can do all of these, what do you call them, contortionist moves? What’s to say he didn’t come down a chimney or through a basement window? Maybe he has a whole set of fancy lock picks. Maybe he knows how to neutralize every security system in existence. So bang! He gets in and out without being seen or leaving any evidence. I’m telling ya, he fits the bill. That magic man hit us.”
“I guess I underestimated him,” Drake mused. “Maybe he’s more skilled than I thought. It makes sense, though. He’s light on his feet. His talents involve manipulation, with that sleight of hand magic stuff. Considering what we did to him, he had every right to retaliate. But I didn’t think he would have the guts to follow through with it. Got to give him credit.”
“Where is all of this leading?” asked Auggie. “How far do we go with this?”
“Okay, so he doesn’t scare off so easy. That leaves us one choice. We up the dosage.” Drake excused the security officer, which left him alone with Auggie. He took the phone off the hook, then turned off his in-house speaker.
“We need to ruin this guy, Auggie. We need to sack this punk until he’s left with nothing. That’s the first order of business. Just in case this guy has the moxie to hit us back again, we have to be ready for him. I want you to hire a professional. I would prefer that it be out of state. Just get somebody lined up who can take this guy out if need be.”
Auggie bit his lip. “Uh, what if we’re dealing with something that’s kind of out of this world? Not that I’m saying we have ghosts or goblins, but I’m beginning to wonder.”
“Then get something out of this world on our side. I don’t care where you have to go. Handle it.”
###
Avy and Sebastian slept on the cot when they got home from the mission. All the theater doors had been locked with extra reinforcements against entry. When they woke up in the late afternoon, Avy busied herself by cleaning the stage props, checking the mechanisms, applying touchup paint, and then feeding the new animals. Sebastian had made a run to the grocery store to stock up on canned goods, bullets, and bottled water. He’d made a special trip to the hardware store to buy a motion detector equipped with a screech alarm. He had the security system installed in four hours. That night, they slept fitfully, often coming fully awake at the slightest noises.
The next day they stayed indoors, rehearsing the act to live music. Training the new animals took extra time, adding to the workload. Avy welcomed the extra training sessions since they served as a distraction. Keeping busy was the only way to restore some normalcy.
Thursday blurred into Friday. They went through their first evening performance, hitting their marks with perfect timing. The second show came off without incident, but Avy couldn’t keep her eyes from straining to see past the stage lights, trying to pick out faces that didn’t belong—individuals who didn’t have their best interests at heart. She could almost see those pasty faces leering at her—people who belonged to Cyberflow.
The weekend passed without incident. When they approached the end of the second Sunday show, Avy caught a glimpse of someone in the crowd she recognized. She almost muffed one of the last tricks, unable to keep her eyes on her work. When the audience began to clear out, Sebastian asked her what had happened, but she just pointed to the rear of the theater. A man in black sat in the very back row, but it was not hard to discern from the overhead lights that this person had long blond hair.
Sebastian hurried to lock the front doors after the last of the patrons had left. He then walked with Janus down the aisle. Avy watched them approach the stage. She blanked for a moment, having no idea what she would say to the priest. Denial was still winning the war in her head.
“I’m so very glad to see you, Janus,” she said, breaking the spell. “We’d be delighted if you’d spend some time with us.” There, that was diplomatic.
“I don’t have long to linger, but a short visit would be nice.”
No, he wouldn’t have long to linger, would he? Avy dashed to the bathroom to change into some slacks and a sweater. She checked her lipstick in the mirror, but her hands shook so much she doubted if she could apply it without scribbling up her face. She primped her hair and palmed down a belligerent cowlick. “Breathe deeply,” she whispered. “He's just man.” True, he was a man who could be her father, but he was still just a man. Exiting the bathroom, she stubbed her toe on the door jam. She hopped pogo-like to the cot and sat down, hissing through her teeth.
Sebastian cocked an eyebrow.
She grimaced, let out a huge breath. “Whaaah have you been up to, Janus? This is an unexpected pleasure.”
“I was in the area, so I thought that I would stop by. Are you feeling well?”
“Toe,” she said. “Just smacked the toe. I’m feeling fine. I’d like to apologize for my behavior when we last met. I’ve learned so much since then. I hope you don’t hold hard feelings against me for my attitude.” She looked at him, begging him with her eyes to understand her position. “Things are becoming more clear,” she added.
“What’s important,” Janus began, “is that you have arrived at the crossroads and chosen the destination. There’s nothing to forgive. You reacted in a normal fashion, like anyone would have. To understand the other’s shoes you must don them sometimes—a step here, a step there. You are beginning to comprehend your own complexity.”
“I’m, I’m
walking
,” she stammered. “The only thing is, well, I’m walking through things—doors.”
“Those are your Gates. That was to be expected. Have you learned to feel them in passing?”
“I can get through several Gate openings. It seems to happen when I concentrate on an emotional state. Hatred or anger to be precise. If I stay in too long, I pick up speed. It scares me. I held on a little long once, which took me miles from here. I’ve learned to make short hops with no problems. But I sense there’s something farther on, something uncharted.” She went on to explain about the longer trip she took across town that involved the four-minute discrepancy. He listened to her every word. He waited for her to finish before he commented.
“You can liken it to a highway,” he said, “with one’s foot on the accelerator. There is a peak velocity that causes a time dilation. You were correct to be concerned about it. Walking is a skill that must be learned in gradual stages. You will have to progress at your own rate until you become proficient. I would suggest you limit the distances—remain within your current experience base. The gift, with what you know of it now, will serve the purpose to find the answers you seek.”
Avy could get that part of it. Babes had to crawl before they could walk. She had to ask, “Am I the only one besides you who has this gift? I’m feeling a little nervous about being, well, exclusive. I’m mean that in a creepy sort of way.”
“You’re one of many. There is a select multitude that travels the network. You’ll glimpse them when you venture deeper into the realm.”
She didn’t have a clue how to word the next question. The implications were staggering. She didn’t know if such a disclosure from him would be forthcoming, but she
had to know the answer. “Is it true that these Walkers might be your children?”
His expression grew soft. “All of you carry my essence. The other half of you is quite normal, or what you would call mortal. It is the mortal part of your existence that keeps you grounded. The other half allows you another freedom. The selection process is rigid, with certain criteria that has to be met. There are just so many candidates. I made the decision to give you birth—your second breath of life.”